Someone should really tell that girl she can not pull off that color

Rediscovered this photo, taken by Brigid at some party over spring break, back in New York. I'm going to tell you why it's a good picture. First of all, whose hand is that? It's literally as if Lisa Greco has a phantom artist hand to constantly promote her work while allowing her full use of both her hands. Second, the composition is fantastic. Third, that monster is doing a pretty good rendition, down to the sunburn (it was unusually sweltry that weekend, for April, and I spent a lot of time falling asleep on Lisa Greco's roof). Fourth, lightweight mustard yellow anorak. Fifth, if we can't sell you on Blackberrys being cool, I don't know who can. Speaking of cans, that one's pretty solid.

While a hand made of water picks you up and puts you down

"I really love our classic, over-privileged, over-educated, over-indulgent weekends." H. B. Miller

Some stills from our annual booze cruise around the Chesapeake, as captured by Bailey Miller. While last year may have involved more cannabis and less engine faults, this year witnessed finger sandwiches and the dwindled remnants of a thirty-rack of PBR. There were also, back on dry land, pitchers of rum punch with breakfast, of Orchard Breezes with lunch, of Bellinis before dinner; beautiful bottles of wine, champagne in ice buckets underneath the cabana, drowsy rounds of badminton followed by anxious plunges into the pool. Drinking and eating and swimming and satirizing: that's what happened this weekend. Of course, this is all an exiguous precursor to the jaunt up to New England that is to come, which, I surmise, will be more of the same, just on an unimaginably more legit scale.

The point of all of this is that it's fucking ideal. And that it doesn't happen all the time, and that things change drastically and often, but some things, some traditions, like the priority of great, indulgent escape, sit remotely untouched, and savourable, and pristine among friends. Because it's good when we do things and we make things of ourselves and we achieve, that we evolve, that we harden, that we become people. But it's also very important that sometimes we don't. That sometimes we are spoiled, lazy, overprivileged, overindulgent, and completely fucking pointless.

Blehhhhhhhhhhhh

A portrait of Primavera Sound 2010 (that doesn't involve me sucking face with an anonymous Spanish gentleman in a beautiful tartan sport coat): free shots in the Jager tent. Tom had 45,000, and it was all ridiculously indulgent.

A few moments from May, overdue

February, a month late

"Hassan Safari Park"

March is the month of McGurty. Hell, every month is. Bringing that shit back.

Peter et Lucy

They being prescription THC pills

Take anotha drinka wine!

It was Christmas last night on South Clerk Street!
Imagine this in a refined British accent

Ridhima and DB, thinking about how hungry they are.

Meanwhile, Shaun lends a hand in the kitchen.

Delicious, delicious roast

The chef



Giant Yorkshire puddin'







Pretty drunk and skeptical of the self-timer and really really really full


(photos courtesy of Lucy Stew)

Starmageddon '09

Here are some pictures from the other night (Guy Fawkes Night) as borrowed off Random Person's facebook. Thank you, Random Person! What a lovely night it was!
Peter in his 'Hunter S. Thompson' attire, aka an unbuttoned Hawaiian shirt and some pajama pants, aka just another day in the life of Peter.




That sacrificial glow..

Huh? Life partners? Me thinkest!

givin' ends to your friends and it felt stupendous

A fairly accurate portrait of the usual state of our home.

Everybody loves Lucy

(Stills from Lucy's bat mitzvah)
I asked Shaun to wear his yellow jumper so that, paired with my yellow dress, we might produce some kind of Donny & Marie effect. Did it work? Anyway, this is us practicing for our Christmas card photo shoot.
Tell me this doesn't look like the best feminist-themed bat mitzvah/birthday party for Jeff Goldblum you've ever seen. I dare you.
Misogynists.
Too much feminism?
Just enough!


Ridhima & Lucy doppelganger
George & Lucy measuring who, between the two of them, is more fierce.
Needs a poo.